Draco

Just because I can tolerate a thestral doesn't mean I want to ride it!

No, no, no, is on the tip of my tongue, but something stops me. Maybe it's the the stupid grin on Potter's face. My eyes dart from Savannah's daring smile to Potter's daring smile. Do these imbeciles want me to ride the thestral?

I have never, ever ridden a thestral in my life. They're bad omens, are they not? Why would I ride one?

And what if the thestral starts flapping its wings and I end up crushed against the high ceiling? What if it does that thing where it stands on its hind legs and I end up falling backwards? There have probably been thousands of thestral-caused deaths. Millions, even. I wouldn't want to add another.

What kind of fool rides a thestral, anyway? Aren't they just… wild animals? What kind of fool breeds them? What is a thestral even good for?

Potter locks his devilish eyes onto mine. He mouths, Come on, Malfoy. An unwanted shiver goes down my spine. He is…. Weird; I try to think of an adjective to describe Potter, but no specific thing comes to my mind. There are too many things to describe him, and the thought both sickens and excites me.

Riding a thestral can't be too hard, can it?

I give the tiniest nod, to both Potter and Savannah, and Potter breaks into a grin. "Great," Savannah says with a very small smile, and when neither Potter or I move, she motions with her hand for us to go on.

Potter shakes his head like he's snapping out of a dream, and walks slowly to where I am. I try not to flinch when he's only a couple feet away, but I now know what Potter smells like. Like firewood and aftershave and a bit like maple syrup. I inhale unconsciously, but stop myself before Potter thinks I'm a freak. He looks up at me from beneath his dark hair, and he's still smiling.

"Okay, so," Potter begins. "You've got to straddle her. Right leg first." He puts his hand on the thestral's hip.

I blush at Potter's mention of straddling. And my leg. Fuck. "This is a bad idea," I mutter, but I plant my hands on the thestral's back anyway. I push with my forearms, and attempt to lift one leg over the thestral. I can't lift high enough.

I lift again, and struggle in the air. One leg is trying to straddle Potter's thestral, and the other is stretching on the tips of its toes. I almost stumble, and, shit, I'm about to fall backwards-

Potter reaches out and puts a hand on my hip. Correction, on my arse.

Oh my God.

Potter's hand is on my arse.

Should I really be this giddy as I am?

Potter's cheeks go red, but he doesn't move his hand. He steadily pushes me, and I hook my leg over the thestral smoothly. I sit down on it, and Potter pulls away. The thestral gives a small grunt but doesn't buck up or panic like I thought it would. Potter clears his throat, steps back, and presses his thighs together to conceal a little… problem. Well, not exactly little. I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from grinning like an utter idiot.

"Okay, so that's…" Potter stutters, shoving his hands into his pockets. "That's- that's all. Um, you'll want to keep your hands on her neck. So you don't fall. And… yeah."

He's so ridiculously sweet right now, I need to clench my hands into fists to restrain myself from reaching down and cupping his cheek. When that weird urge passes (or at least most of it, because now I could never not want to touch Potter's face), I do as he says, and hold on to the thestral's neck. Its skin is like leather, and it feels cool under my bare thighs and hands. I hug its sides with my legs, but Potter reaches out and grabs my thigh to stop me.

"Wait," he says quickly. "Don't do that. It's…. Thestrals are like horses. If you do that, she'll think you want her to move."

His palm is warm and rough, but he draws his hand back the moment his words are out of his mouth. Immediately, I want his hands on me again. "Oh," I manage, feeling the heat rise to my face. "I… I didn't know that."

Potter smiles this lopsided grin that makes me feel like my insides are too close to a candlestick. "There's a lot you don't know about thestrals, huh?"

"Clearly," I reply, half-flirty. Okay, not only half. I definitely just used my flirting voice on Potter.

His grin doesn't waver. "Y'know, you could go over to my ranch. I'm sure there's loads I can teach you. About thestrals, of course."

I can't come up with an answer quickly enough. Melissa (oh, fuck you, your nickname is literally "Mess-up") makes this motion with her hands that looks a lot like weaving, and I try to forget Potter and focus on my work. My eyes find the camera naturally, and Potter backs away from the set with an oddly blank expression.

Forget the fact that I probably look like a thestral-riding goddess right now; I am so confused. Potter just asked me out….

Right?

Why do hetero men have to be so confusing? Is Potter even straight? Didn't my brain and I agree he's queer? Didn't he date the woman currently standing next to the thestral I'm riding? But didn't the rumours say he and Diggory dated?

Maybe he's bisexual, then. Or a pansexual. Or questioning? One thing I hate yet admire about Potter is that he keeps you guessing, and you can never be sure with him. I used to think he was a straightforward person, before this photoshoot, but I was so wrong.

Merlin, I don't know if I should thank or murder Pansy. This day has been confusing, nostalgic, tense, and a little bit sexy. But that could just be my brain playing the moment Potter's hand touched my arse repeatedly like a record. Pansy's going to lose her shit when she learns Potter received an erection from my short-shorts. Perhaps it'd be best if I didn't mention that bit, for fear of losing my eardrums. Pansy may be a lesbian, but she is certainly not above straight girl squeals, especially when she's right about something.

I'm distracting myself. Potter… asked me… out. To his farm. To "teach me" things. About thestrals, of course. A corner of my brain is screaming, "Horny hetero!" while another part is thinking, "He looked so shy and nervous! He's got to like you at least a little bit to ask you out to his farm. That's so… I don't know, personal." Yes, my brain cells coexisting are always this chaotic.

Before I can chicken out, I block out Chang, the photographers, Melissa, Savannah, even the bloody thestral, and casually turn my eyes to Potter.

I give him the slightest of nods, and I can tell from his gradual smile that he knows I was referring to his date on the ranch.

Well done, Potter, I think. You have successfully won Draco Malfoy over.